The Cherry Logs From the Home Hill

They were the widest and clearest boards in the stack, with the prettiest grain, the kind that shows a ripple in the light when you tilt them.

He laid them on two blocks by themselves and put his coat over them like a blanket.

“Those aren’t for sale,” he told Levi.

Levi nodded. “Good,” he said. “Those are the ones I would keep.”

I asked Dad what they were for, and he said he’d tell me later.

Then he put his coat back on and stood by the stack with his hand on the top board again, and he watched the saw.

The last log came off the carriage just before noon. Levi shut down the saw, and then he walked back and shut down the diesel, and the quiet came down over the whole valley so suddenly my ears rang with it.

The stack of cherry boards sat on the sawdust beside the mill, shining in the sun, with the twelve boards off to the side under Dad’s watch.

A few slabs still lay on the rollers. The air smelled like fresh cherry, which smells a little like almonds and a little like fruit.

Levi pulled a pencil out from behind his ear and a little notebook from the pocket of his blue shirt.

He went down the stack board by board, measuring the width of each one with a rule, writing numbers, counting under his breath.

He did the twelve boards too, even though they weren’t for sale. Dad took off his faded green seed cap and held it against his chest.

I’ve only seen him do that for the flag and for funerals. Mason stood beside me with his gloves in his hands.

Levi took a long time. He added up the columns twice. Then he closed the notebook and put the pencil back behind his ear and walked over to my father.

“Arvid,” he said. “I will tell you what I can pay.”

Dad didn’t say anything. He just waited, holding his cap.

“There is nineteen hundred board feet here,” Levi said. “Most of it is the best grade, clear on both faces. Some is the next grade down. Very little is common. Not one board is pallet.”

He looked at the twelve boards under the coat, and then back at Dad.

“Without the ones you are keeping, it is a little under eighteen hundred feet. Clear cherry, green off the saw, I pay four dollars a foot. Some a little more, some a little less.”

He held out the notebook so Dad could see the total at the bottom of the page. “Seven thousand four hundred dollars,” Levi said. “Cash, today, if you want it.”

Dad looked at the number for a long time. Then he looked at Levi. Then he looked at me, and his eyes were wet, and he cleared his throat twice before anything came out.

“That’s more than eleven times what I was handed on Thursday,” he said.

“It is what the wood is worth,” Levi said simply. “Your trees grew straight because somebody took care of them for a long time. I can see that in every board. That is worth paying for.”

Dad put his cap back on and shook Levi’s hand, and held onto it a little longer than a handshake.

Levi went up to the house and came back with an envelope, and he counted out the money on the stump next to the coffee pot.

It was mostly hundreds. Dad didn’t count it again after Levi did.